Be Prepared
by GeminiGemelo
Summary: He was the king, and he expected them to bend to his will. He wanted to dominate. Yet the lionesses... well, they had other, more profound ideals. Semi-canon one-shot, dialogue borrowed.


_**A/N:**_

_Well, talk about a nice one-shot to start off my week... at almost 11 pm on a Monday night. Anyways, the reasoning behind this fic is that I once saw the Be Prepared reprise on Youtube, and since I just got TLK on Blu-ray I was able to see the scene again. Inspired, I wrote this... all of the dialogue is actual borrowed movie dialogue, albeit from a cut scene, and the wording in between is my interpretation of movements from the sketches. The first part before the first line of dialogue is all my own and gives it context. XD_

_It was rather odd working with a lot of actual dialogue... I attempted to add my own dark flare to this, but since it's not my own scene/dialogue I could only do so much. x) There's not a lot of violence in Disney, y'know... although since this scene was removed for sexual harassment/creepiness I would say it would probably be one of the darkest scenes if it were kept._

_Now I want to see this animated with Scar's real voice and everything... DX_

* * *

Scar was a rational lion.

Indeed, that was nothing less than the truth—they could say what they would about him, they could play politics all day… but he would always be known for his intelligence. However, that was about the end of what could be agreed upon: afterwards, and after that statement of truth, there was only a blotchy grey area. His harsh ruling strategy was… _unconventional_… to say the least, and various rumors had been started and subsequently spread like wildfire throughout the dry savanna. Unvoiced thoughts and dreary suspicions flourished like weeds in the shadows, and every being seemed to have their own distinct opinions of the new king. A rare few respected him and fewer still liked him, as distrust was common and a few cynical animals even speculated that Scar had had something to do with the downfall of Mufasa, the previous king.

Or at least they would have speculated as such, had it even been legal to say that name. In any case, Scar vehemently denied any such claims, and so the animals quietly kept to themselves. There wasn't much point in reasoning, as the land was still going dry and they had more important matters of survival to worry about than keeping up with the royal family. The lionesses too were no exception to this—they mostly kept to their own, rarely confronting him about any particular issue.

And yet something was amiss, even if the only one who could see it was the king's confidant, Zazu. Things were screwed, twisted, awry… it was something no one could put their paw on, but it lived inside one very mind, one very wisp of a desire…

Her.

Scar looked outside of his cave for a moment, jade eyes being met with about a thousand shades of grey in the once picturesque landscape. He carried himself regally, yet his appearance betrayed something vaguely troubled and unkempt. The wind blew steadily, a pleasing zephyr to the senses, but there was no pleasant sunlight to accompany such a feeling.

There was nothing, no light to illuminate his handsome features. It was a shame, really. All was merely darkness and clouds, and even the moon and stars were covered and masked by the big, wet masses in the sky.

But even in the dimness, he could still see those supple curves. That young and perfect figure. He sighed and stroked his goatee, his mind puzzling over something unobtainable, something so enigmatic and unable to be clearly pinpointed. It wasn't a problem in the usual sense, as he couldn't even identify what he sought. There was only a vast emptiness, both in himself and in the land around him.

She was something not ravished, still as precious as she was before the famine. No, she was more so—she was more beautiful, more perfect, more… of herself.

Nala. Four letters, two rhyming syllables. Sometimes he found himself muttering that name when he was distracted, oddly entranced by its soft sound… the warm feel of it—and of her—with that inviting touch of fur which he had only experienced once, when she was a cub and had accidently nuzzled up against him…

She was also infuriating, too—that much could not be denied. He'd tried to get rid of her once. It was a mistake, he had later realized, and it was fortunate that those hyenas hadn't succeeded when he had planned the death of his thick-headed brother and his nephew. For a part of him wanted her around. A part of her craved her presence. Yet another part of him despised her and wanted her gone. For no matter what damage he did, and no matter what he subjugated under him, she was still standing strong, perfect, and unchanged. She was like a sharp thorn thrust deep into his side by Sarafina… it hurt badly, and it caused him pain. He couldn't get rid of it, despite his constant trying. He couldn't forget his betrayal as the so-called love of his life had retreated with that rogue who had created her eventual daughter. The young lioness' perfect little self was proof of the injustice thrust upon him—she was a symbol of what he hated most of all. And yet, through it all, it hurt so _good_…

It didn't make sense to Scar. After all, he was a rational lion… yet this transcended that. For his unknown and unidentified lust spoke not to his senses or his calm pragmatism: it spoke to his runaway greed and his luscious envy. A part of him wanted to ravish her, to overcome his worst fears and memories and to destroy her. He would tame her like he would tame the beast growing inside of him: through force. That was why he would do it—to show his dominance. To break her stubborn, fighting, struggling little spirit.

After all, the hardest iron made the most brittle steel… and the most brittle steel shattered the most profoundly. He had mastered his brother, and now it was her turn. He would abate his fears and turn them into nothing. In fact, he would make her less than nothing… he would make her his.

He decided to say something of it, even though he was hardly aware of his thought processes and still not sure of what exactly he was after… He headed back inside the cave, seemingly sapped at strength just from looking at his putrid abode. His mind ached and he felt exhausted from his time as king, merely wandering to the back and lying down across a rock in the back. It was all sapping on his patience. He spoke up, not in the mood for trifling idly and only wishing to get to the heart of the matter.

"Zazu…" he mused aloud to his majordomo, who was standing dutifully in the back, "why am I not… loved?"

He flippantly tossed a bone behind him, the clatter of it resounding through the cave. Zazu picked it up with a hint of disgust, along with a small group of others. His nose twitched and he lifted his head up with a hint of his trademark arrogance, a sure sign of his irritation as he turned around and added another small bone to the heap in his arms before tossing all of them to the ground.

"Simple, Sire. Things around here have gone to _pot_."

"Oh, pish," Scar contradicted as he arose and turned around, two spoonbills diligently lifting a wing in salutation as he sauntered off the rock and passed them in frustration, "what's important is how _I _feel…"

"The Pridelands have become the armpit of Africa!" Zazu dusted himself off, not relenting in his quiet and continuous air of dignity as he mentally prodded at the blithe king, who ignored him and continued his train of thought.

"I'm warm, witty, and good-looking…" he smiled to himself.

"—Hyenas are prancing around like they own the place!"

"And they've got to joke like nobodies' business," he continued walking as he smiled, enjoying the irritation and the lathered rage of the tiny, seemingly insignificant hornbill's ranting.

"There isn't enough water to fill a gnat's navel!" he quipped at him, not amused, as he descended the slight slope of the cave with another armful of picked-clean bones in tow.

"There's something missing…" he continued ignoring him, a pensive look on his face as he stopped and gazed at the ceiling… which, unfortunately, held no enlightenment for him in his quest for an answer. "… _What_ is it?"

"_Your_ grasp on reality!" Zazu finally confronted him, a flurry of feathers assailing the leonine face as he looked on, unimpressed. "_Do _something before the Pridelands go completely down the dumper!" he fluttered circles around his head a few times more before landing on the ground and crossing his arms with a distinct and obvious huff.

A pause followed. A silent moment in which Scar's reverie was instigated and stirred into action. He pondered everything for a quick moment, before Zazu conceived the unwise idea of continuing with the worst words possible.

"… Now if _Mufasa _were alive…"

"Oh_, shut up!_" Scar brought his paw down on Zazu, looking truly irritated for the first time of their conversation. He quickly crushed him under the weight of his appendage, the spoonbills becoming frightened and fleeing from the cave as they left Zazu alone to face Scar's slowly kindling wrath…

"Consider it shut," Zazu's muffled beak shot him a sycophantic and rather nervous smile. The lion continued, ignoring his obsequious attempts to placate him.

"_Mufasa, Mufasa_… I'm sick to death of him!" Scar paced, his old passion and the faint tendrils of jealousy slowly materializing, his face twisting into a sickened grimace as the memories drifted back like a thick, billowing cloud of smoke. "What did he have that I don't have?"

Zazu fluttered down, obviously surprised with the extent of the monarch's seeming ignorance. "Nothing. You lack nothing at all… except for a few… _minor_ _things_…" he announced pompously, a twinge of malice and pride in his voice. Scar said nothing, curious and waiting for him to go on. The bird understood his cue and continued.

"Adoring subjects," Zazu began listing off emphatically, a self-righteous simper creeping across his bill, "_respect_ of your species, a loving family, a _devoted _queen… Shall I go on, Sire?"

Scar promptly brought his paw down, clamping it across his open beak and removing the smile from his grinning maw. The lion was unaware—and indeed didn't care much for—Zazu's subtle hinting and expression of monarchial preferences. He had heard what he needed to hear.

"A queen?" Scar brought up his paw, still holding Zazu, and waved the bird around as he got carried away. "Yes, I need a queen!"

"Look, a… ack, ah, a…" Zazu freed his bill from the king's grasp, eyes wide in concern, "… ouch… a qu-what?"

Scar continued his soliloquy jovially, again unaware of the bird's distress. "She will rule by my side. We'll have cubs! Little Scars running all over the place! … My heirs… My descendents! My _lineage!_"

Zazu retreated inside the grasp of the king's paw, afraid of his increasing intensity. The lion threw his head back, showing his teeth in a jubilant and triumphant smile. Indeed, it was as if he was at the edge of an epiphany… and Zazu had no idea what was going on.

"_I will be… IMMORTAL!_"

"Scar."

A feminine voice interrupted the brief and awkward silence. Scar pricked his ears and lifted his head… and it was then that everything fell into place. His wants, his needs, his desires… everything fit together as he gazed to the front of the cave, now understanding what he had to do as he stared upon the silhouette. Nala was standing there, so strong and confident in herself and yet so small and unaware of her own vulnerability. So ripe and ready for… _plunder_…

"_Ahhhh_," he let out a pleasured moan, "Nala. Your timing couldn't be more… _perfect_… _Do _come in."

The lion purred, all of his attention focused on the front of the cave. He dismissed his majordomo without even drawing his attention away from the young flower of a lioness. "That will be all, Zazu."

"Oh, eh, don't you think I should stay?"

"_That will be all…"_ he spoke up more harshly, shooting a glare at the flapping, quivering Zazu. The bird flew out of the cave, lightly admonishing Nala on the way out.

"_Give a roar if you need anything_."

"Oh, come a little closer," Scar invited, drawing her attention away from the departed hornbill. Then, with an ominous and somewhat foreboding show of his sharp, glinting fangs: "… I won't _bite_."

"Scar, it's chaos out there and someone needs to _do _something!" She continued in a defiant tone, ignoring his relaxed attitude and the quiet yawn he gave as he silently dismissed her complaints.

"The world is _full _of problems," he brushed his mane indifferently, "… even for a king." Then, sauntering seductively towards her, he began to sing, a little simper just showing in the overwhelming darkness of the cave and the night:

"It's tough at the top. I deserve a, er… _companion_. A mate who will start

my cylinders firing with _fervor. _And you, my sweet thing, fit the part."

"Excuse me?" she queried, allowing a brief and confused cock of the eyebrow to penetrate her cold and passionless expression. She watched him as a spectator would watch a caged animal: distantly, and without much interest. He continued to circle her, secretly infuriated by her indifference. But he didn't show it. No, not yet—he had to win her over with his inherent charm. These things required a bit of skill, the knack for charisma which he had already worked on the hyenas. Yes, he would dominate… but it would take a bit of _patience_.

"A king alone is a sad situation indeed," he mumbled, sidling up to her with a rueful smile, "but a king without heirs… now _that's _a tragedy."

Scar deftly attempted to hold her paw, but she refused, pulling it away from him with a surprised and offended look. He stopped, his fangs showing and his brows furrowing at her rejection in the first explicit show of his frustration. This would be harder than he thought… he would need to be deft, and possibly even resort to… _force_…

He didn't want to, but a lion did what he had to in order to get what he wanted.

"You can't be serious."

"I've never been _more_ serious," he retorted with a thick, purring drawl, a piercing and wrought smile forming across his darkened face. She ignored him, attempting to walk away, but he physically blocked her by using his own lithe body as a barrier. Drawing himself back up to her eye level so he could meet her gaze, he continued his song and again advanced on her with even more zeal than before:

"Be prepared for a stunning proposal, that power and beauty should bond. Which cannot but fail to ensure myself hail to a chief and his consort, the sin of quite non sort*****." Nala backed into the crevice of a rock wall, trying to silently escape and avert her eyes from his steadfast gaze. Yet this, oddly enough, only seemed to encourage him more, as he placed his paws on the rock and kept her trapped as she looked about in distress. "Of ruling ascendants, our line of descendants will flow through the pride and _beyond! A—_"

_Smack!_

Her paw swung back and hit him forcefully in the face, causing him to recoil back and rub his cheek thoughtfully with his paw. She was defying him openly, trying to upstage his attempts at slaking the burning thirst inside of him. She was deflating him, trying to foil him. And because of what? He was giving her a gift, doing her a favor… or at least he had tried to make it seem that way. But she was smart: too smart, almost… And yet still not smart enough to outwit him. For he wasn't going to cave in to her stubbornness over a mere show of her claws. He had the upper paw… namely, the power. Turning his grimace into a wide smile, he let out an amused laugh, simultaneously withdrawing his paw to find that only a small trickle of blood was coming from the weak gashes on the side of his face. He'd suffered much more grievous harm than that—surely that was obvious just from the scar over his eye.

"_Ayyy_, a-hahahahahaha, ho-ho, Nala, Nala, _Nala…_" he uttered her name in the way he always did when he felt absentminded, a gentle tsk of his tongue admonishing her lightly. He drew in a breath, unfazed, and fixed her with his beady stare as he shortly broke to her the truth.

"You know, you really have no choice," he smiled quietly, the wind howling inhospitably in the background. It was warm and sheltered in the cave, and yet she continued resolutely towards the outdoors, an angry and defiant scowl stuck there on her countenance. Oh, how futile it all was… He watched her go bemusedly, following her as she joined the other lionesses at the bottom of his stolen throne—the bottom of Pride Rock… "One way or another, I _always _get what I _want_."

"Let the pride be my witness," he commanded forcefully and angrily, commanding the attention of the lionesses outside, "I choose _Nala _as my queen!"

"—And I reject you," she spun around with her usual rebellious energy, barely letting her finish. Scar climbed a rock nearby and looked down on her indignantly… if only that energy could be directed to other places. If only she were less… _feisty_… it was too hard to keep her under control. He pulled another card, another trick out of his theoretical sleeve. For surely she wouldn't abandon her home and all that she cared about.

"Either be my queen, or be forever _banished_ from the Pridelands," he spoke simply and mercilessly, ignoring the twinge of his conscience. Besides, while his heart yearned for her to be subdued to and deferent to him, the rare twist of logic suggested that, even if she did leave, it would be for the better. Then she would be without a home, her position and respectability destroyed. Surely after that she would learn her lesson—after all, his subconscious reflected for the second time, the most brittle steel shattered most profoundly. And if she didn't want to bend under him, she would face the consequences. That was his will, and it was inviolable. Only she was the ingot, the manipulated variable, the experimental guinea pig… Resistance was expected, but in the end it would all surely come to nothing.

"You can't banish me!"

That was it. The iron choosing not to bend. It was against the laws of nature, the laws of the pride… and she had made her choice. His paw motioned towards the lionesses with suave carelessness, reflecting his stern and serious upholding of his own words.

"Take her away," he said calmly. And yet nothing happened. For the lionesses had other plans…

"Be reasonable, Scar." His sister-in-law and the former queen Sarabi spoke up, her voice firm and yet entreating him to use whatever sparse sense was encamped inside his mind. The king only bent his head and growled sourly, frustrated that she must choose the misguided path of Nala also…

"Didn't you hear me?"

"No." She said it simply, contemptuously…

"_Take her away!_" he growled, exposing his array of nice, shiny teeth. There was no resistance, and only a pause. No movement followed. He stood up tall on the rock; his rage was being kindled, wrath glowing in his emerald eyes and burning through the vestiges of his rotting patience… "_I _am the _king! _You must do as I say!"

Another strike with the hammer. And yet the lionesses not only refused to take Nala, but banded together tightly and resolutely. They stared him down. A repudiation.

"Ah, so that's the game, eh?" He dismounted from the rock, staring at them as he pretentiously trailed by. "Mutiny? _Ha! _Insurrection?"

Scar turned around, a smirk coming to him and eventually forming itself into a twisted, fully-fledged smile.

"Fine. Have it your own way. I don't require your _respect_"—at the word 'respect', he angrily turned and narrowed his eyes at them—"only your obedience…" Walking by the steadfast lionesses and simpering arrogantly as he passed several individuals, he again began to sing his thoughts as he walked towards Pride Rock's summit.

"It's time you were all introduced to your ruler's _executive staff_. Perhaps not the kind you've been used to, but certainly game for a laugh."

As if on cue, the laughter of several hyenas burst through the awkward and all-encompassing silence. The eerie shadows of a hyena's face were spread across the walls by some unseen light source, causing the shades on the rock to dance and mingle and mix in frightful forms and combinations. In unison, the lionesses gasped, instantly struck with terror and anger as, to their greatest disbelief, several hyenas retreated from behind the gloomy cliffs and ledges to make their ignominious appearances. Scar laughed to himself triumphantly as they took over the song, knowing that the appearance of these brutes would surely crush their petty little rebellion.

"… We'd like to assure you no fooling. Red meat is no longer our scene. But if now and then we're seen drooling, it's only an ancestor's gene!"

Hordes of them retreated from seemingly every orifice, covering the rocks and watching like raptors from the creeping, shadowy crags. Scar ignored them, unafraid, and closed his eyes in joy as his plan worked and he could yell freely from his brother's suddenly moonlit former pedestal.

"So prepare for a _glorious _future! Be prepared for the pride's golden age!"

"He's like any other, who murdered a brothe—" a solo hyena suddenly yelped, being rudely cut off by a paw and his recanting chorus of pack mates as they pushed past the confused lionesses and climbed up Pride Rock to join their ruler.

"—If we don't spread rumors, he'll feed us and groom us. With friends in high places, we hold all the aces…"

"… So _don't _try to rattle my cage." Scar finished, looking at the now submissive lionesses matter-of-factly.

"Oh, imagine if anyone _dared_, be prepared!"

The hyenas chased Nala off, snapping at her heels as she ran for her life in fright. Scar watched her go, avaricious eyes enjoying the spectacle as she retreated off to distant lands. This wasn't exactly what he wanted, but he still felt mostly better inside. She was gone. He was rid of her. Never again would he have to deal with her solemn dirges, her nippy complaints. In the end, he had dominated. And what could she do? Nothing. She was gone for good, surely. Besides, whatever happened, he was in control…

He looked over at the Pridelands hungrily, his ear barely catching the final chorus of the hyenas as they sang his cue.

The lion grinned, fangs showing through his lips as Nala's fading silhouette finally disappeared into the moonlit blanket of withering savannah grass. He doubted she would return—yet his sense told him to remain open to that possibility. And so it was that he remembered his motto, uttering it in perfect time to the song below him. Oh, imagine if anyone dared…

"_Be prepared…_"

* * *

***** - [Now, even though I like to add tons of ANs and such, I don't add them in the middle of the story. Sadly, I think this little blip was probably enough to distract you from the narration. In all seriousness, I apologize. I absolutely could not make out what he was saying, and it's probably impossible to find this part of the lyrics because it's hardly even a song in the first place (in addition to being deleted). I believe what he says is supposed to be Latin (akin to the use of "quid pro quo" in the final BP), so all I could do was put in my closest approximation of his words. Silly eloquent Scar. x) So yeah, ignore the obvious nonsense there...]

_Anyways, that_ _is my extrapolation/interpretation/acting through of the deleted scene "Scar wants Nala as his queen". This is similar to, but not exactly alike, the famous "Madness of King Scar" musical scene (which is based off of it). This scene was in place of Scar's eulogy and explains Nala's flight from the Pridelands - personally, I like this version better because it is less nebulous. XD It also includes the original version of Be Prepared. :D_

_You can look all this up on Youtube - I would recommend it if you haven't seen it. x) Review on the way out! I would like to think that there wasn't a large disparity in writing style and that this flowed pretty smoothly, but I can't say for sure... hence where you guys come in! Also, if you're shy, you can just quietly favorite it. That's fine too. ;)_

_Adios, gentes, y vayan con Dios! :D_

_Twin (:_


End file.
